Bethyl: Missing Moments
by deni269
Summary: A series of short scenes that are missing from the show. Think of them as 'deleted scenes' that show the early relationship of Beth and Daryl. I will try to keep this as canon as possible. Friendship and mild flirting for now. Rated for language, violence and adult themes, typical of the canon. Possible rating change later on.
1. 2-4-1

**A/N: This coincides with the opening scenes of episode 4 season 2.**

**2. 4. 1 When Beth Greene Met Daryl Dixon**

Beth was grateful for the shade of the yellowwood tree as they sifted through the reddish-brown mud, collecting limestone rocks to place on Otis's empty gravesite. It had rained overnight, and the air had been left heavy and muggy and Beth found herself sweating profusely as she twisted and bent, and lifted and dropped the rocks into the wheelbarrow. The sweat collected on the back of her shoulders and tickled as it trailed along her arms and collected in her leather working gloves.

A deep rumbling sound, echoing above the chittering grasshoppers in the fields, caught her attention, and balancing the weight of the rocks she held in her hands in the air, she looked to the dirt road that led to her family's farm house.

They had been expecting company. Beth's father had been taking care of a little boy that Otis had accidently shot while out hunting. Beth had little to do with the Grimes family since they had arrived, but she knew they were travelling in a larger group, that had been arriving in drips and drabs over the last couple of days.

She also knew her father was none too happy to have them here. But he was nothing if not hospitable, and she knew he would do all that he could to help these strangers out.

One of the people who had arrived the day before, T-dog was his name, he dropped his rocks and jogged towards the house supporting his bandaged arm as his large frame tousled from side to side.

"That is so awesome." Jimmy, Beth's boyfriend, stepped away from her and removed his Bullhide raffia hat to get a better view of the road.

Beth watched the convoy of vehicles rounding the slope of the hill, led by a motorcycle, leaving dust and noise in its wake.

She screwed her nose up in disapproval. "It's dangerous, and loud, and obnoxious."

"Obnoxious?" Jimmy turned back to her, with his brows skewed in a look of confusion.

She couldn't tell if he didn't understand the definition of the word, or if he couldn't understand why she had chosen to use it. She wouldn't be too surprised if it were the former. Jimmy was sweet, but he wasn't the brightest of boys.

"It's all like; 'look at me I'm here'." Beth muttered in a condescending tone. The heat was starting to irritate her, she figured.

She eyed over the body saddled on the motorcycle, she couldn't make his features out from where she stood. "Bet he thinks he's real tough on that bike…with his no-sleeves."

Jimmy tossed the rock he was holding back below the tree. "You're not bein' very friendly Beth, what would your dad say?"

Beth huffed with bottom lip turned up, blowing a stream of much needed air over the clammy skin of her face. She wasn't being friendly, that wasn't like her, but so much had been going on in the last few months, she didn't really feel herself at all anymore.

"Daddy always told me to stay away from boys who looked like that." She flashed a grin towards Jimmy "...that's why I'm with you."

"C'mon, let's go show 'em some hospitality." Jimmy tugged her by the elbow, and Beth let her rocks fall into the nearby wheelbarrow. She allowed him to pull her over to the dirt path that led right up to the wrap around porch of the house; posts all covered in peeling, weathered, white paint.

The bike, suburban and RV pulled to a stop and two women and an older man exited the vehicles and strolled over to the congregation that had come out to greet them.

Beth watched as the motor-bike rider kicked out the stand and then with a hop, swung his leg over the saddle and kicked his boots into the ground. She had never seen a man who was so dirty. Even in the middle of harvest when the men had been out sweating and kicking up mud all day they didn't look _that_ filthy.

The filthy man turned back to the bike and unhooked a metallic cross shaped object from the back of his bike. Beth had only ever seen a crossbow in movies before. She found herself suddenly intrigued by this redneck her daddy wouldn't normally want her to have anything to do with.

Beth's attentions were turned to the screeching as the screen door swung open and the Grimes' made their way across the porch and down the creaking stairs.

"How is he?" Asked the older looking man, with the grizzled white beard and stunned facial expression, shaded by the fisherman's bucket hat.

"He'll pull through, thanks to Hershel and his people." Lori Grimes looked gratefully over at Beth's father, Hershel.

"And Shane." Rick Grimes added, referring to the lean and tanned man who had been the last one to see Otis alive. "We'd have lost Carl if not for him."

The man in the bucket hat stepped forward and gave Rick a brotherly hug.

"Thank God." One of the newcomers, a middle aged woman with greying cropped hair, stepped forward and hugged Lori. "We were so worried."

"How'd it happen?" The bucket hat wearing man asked Rick.

"Huntin' accident. That's all. Just a stupid accident."

"Well, can we go see him?"

Beth's father stepped forward as if defending his home from unwanted intruders. "Best not to, he needs his rest, why don't you people set up over by them trees" He gestured to the thicket of trees by the old rusted swing set that Beth had spent hours climbing all over when she was a little girl. "I'm guessin' you might need to be stayin' a while…while the boy recovers."

The newcomers turned around to examine the location he had pointed out and Beth's father ducked back inside the house. That wasn't like her daddy, to not introduce himself. Beth figured he must have a lot on his mind with all the sickness, and gunshot wounds he had been dealing with.

Beth stepped towards the bucket hat wearing man and extended a genial hand.

"Hi, I'm Beth. Hershel is my daddy."

The man took her hand and gave it a firm and friendly squeeze. "I'm Dale. Nice to meet you, Beth." Dale nodded to the door that Beth's father had just disappeared through. "We're all very grateful for what your daddy did for Carl."

Beth gave him a friendly smile and turned her attention to the other newcomers.

"Carol." The short haired woman stepped forward and shook Beth's hand.

"Andrea." The other woman, a beautiful blonde stepped forward. Beth thought that she looked like she would have been sophisticated before the turn. She had a city girl look about her.

She waited for the redneck to offer his name, but he simply eyed her from head to toe, while he chewed lightly on the side of his lip. The look made her feel as if she had somehow sprouted talons and wings overnight without her knowledge.

"Beth." She repeated, in case he didn't hear the first time.

His eyes flicked to Dale, to Andrea and then to Carol, and then leaning his crossbow against his thigh, he rubbed a grimy hand against his even grimier shirt and then extended it out to her.

"Daryl."


	2. 2-4-2

**A/N: This is set before Otis's funeral, episode 4, season 2.  
**

**2. 4. 2 When Beth taught Daryl about flowers**

"Do you want some gloves?" Beth eyed over the dirty grazed hand that gripped around the limestone rock.

Daryl quirked an eyebrow and eyed her over as if she had just spoken to him in some foreign language.

"Nah." He turned his hands and presented them to her, displaying how hard-worn and covered with callouses they were. "Ain't been soakin' 'em in milk and honey. They're made for this kinda work."

Beth shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly; she wasn't going to force the redneck to take comforts he didn't want.

Daryl's heavy blue eyes remained on Beth as she bent and twisted delivering the rocks to the tray of the wheel barrow. Beth was feeling a little unnerved, wondering why he was looking at her like that. She raised her eyes up and glared at him questioningly. Daryl crinkled his brow in confusion.

"Why you wearin' white doin' work like this?" He flicked his finger towards the collared, sheer blouse she had chosen to wear that day.

"It's my favourite colour."

Daryl scoffed to himself, and gave his head a gentle shake.

"You know what's out there?" Daryl waved his hand to the expanse of the farm, but Beth knew he was referring to the sick ones out in the fields, woods and towns surrounding the farm.

"Makes 'bout as much sense as wearin' red to a bull fight."

Beth dropped the stone she was holding in her hand into the tray and placed her gloved hands on her hips, ready to challenge this awful smelling, dirty man dressed in rags, who dared to question her choice in clothing.

"It makes perfect sense. The world still needs a lil' brightness and purity."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and Beth took note of how broad they were. She didn't think she had ever seen a man with such broad shoulders. Certainly not Jimmy. At seventeen, his shoulders were still narrow and boyish.

Beth shook her head, and turned back to the task of collecting stones, hoping her boyfriend didn't catch her admiring a feature he didn't have. "Why you helpin' anyway, you never even met him."

Daryl dropped his rock into the tray and then wiped the back of his wrist across his brow, collecting a puddle of sweat as it went. He flicked a finger over to the pile of rocks that was collecting under the nearby tree where they planned to hold Otis's funeral later on. "He gave his life to save a kid, the man deserves my respect."

Beth nodded in agreement. "He was a good man. He was teachin' me to strum a six string. I was just startin' to get real good...and now." Beth glanced out to the fields and smiled sadly as she thought of the jolly, bulky man and the times she had sung along to his guitar playing.

"I wish I could do somethin' more for him." She was speaking to no one in particular, but it was Daryl who watched her as he hefting rocks and tossed them into the barrow with a loud clang. "I wish daddy would let me leave the farm. So I could pick some flowers for him."

She swept her arm around to the expanse of trees that surrounded the farm. "The woods 'round here are teemin' with roses."

Daryl looked up at her, squinting curiously. "Roses?"

"Yeah, Cherokee roses, the white ones with the yellow in the middle..."

"Yeah I know 'em." He interrupted.

"They're real pretty. Otis would've liked to have 'em." Beth held the large rock in her arms to her chest, smearing red all over her white shirt, she brushed away some of the dirt with her gloved hand. "Do you know the story about the Cherokee rose?"

"I know 'bout as much 'bout flowers as a dog knows 'bout playin' piana."

"We learnt about it in History." Beth smiled to herself as she took the opportunity to teach the redneck something new. "You know the trail of tears? Back in the 1800s, The Native Americans lived on the land here in the South. The military forced them to leave their homelands and walk thousands of miles across the Mississippi. The journey was real hard. Along the way they lost a lot of their kids; to exposure, disease, starvation, some of them just got off-course and were never seen again. The mothers were so full of grief that the elders said a special prayer for them, to uplift their spirits and give them strength and hope. The legend says the next time a mother shed a tear; those white flowers would start bloomin' wherever it fell."

Daryl looked as if he had hung on to every word as she spoke.

"I don't think he wants to hear stories about flowers, Beth." Jimmy stepped between them and dropped a pile of rocks into the tray. "When's he ever gonna need to know all that stuff?"

Daryl glared at Jimmy. "You don't know nothin' 'bout me or what I need."

**A/N: More to come, tell me if you like the idea.**


	3. 2-4-3

**A/N: This is set some time after Daryl gives the rose to Carol in episode 4 season 2.**

**2. 4. 3 When Beth found out that Dixons aren't boyfriend material.**

Beth's father had told her not to bother the folk who had camped on their land. He said to just leave them about their business and try to pretend they weren't even there. But Beth couldn't pretend.

It had only been the six of them on the farm for what seemed like forever, and Beth had almost believed that all society had disappeared, until she had seen Rick carrying the injured boy across the field.

Beth had really taken a liking to Andrea. It was nice to have another girl around, and even though she was much older than Beth, she found that talking to someone about something other than farming, was a pleasure she sorely missed.

So when Andrea asked to borrow a crème for her dry skin, Beth didn't hesitate to help out.

She made her visit quick, the day was getting dark, and daddy hated her being away from the house, even in broad daylight, and he seemed to hate it even more when she 'bothered' the newcomers.

She received Andrea's thanks, and then weaved her way through the tents, avoiding the lines that held them to the leaf covered ground.

She didn't see Daryl where he was, sitting on the root of the tree sharpening his knife, and she very almost tripped over him.

"Watch it, girl. Near caught my knife in your thigh."

Beth eyed over the knife in his hand. It was a big one, with an ornate pattern of squares on the handle. It looked pretty, but Beth wasn't sure if knives like that were meant to be pretty.

"Sorry." Beth muttered earnestly, while backing away, not sure what to make of his angry expression.

" 's a'right." He shrugged his shoulders casually and went back to running the whetstone over his blade.

Beth turned her back to him making for home, while maneuvering through the sprawling tree roots.

"I found one of them flowers…for Carol. Think it might give her a bit of hope."

Beth stopped in her tracks, a little stunned that the redneck wanted to continue a conversation with her. He didn't seem to like conversing with anyone really.

Carol was the short haired women she had met earlier. She was the mother of the little girl they had lost back on the highway nearby. She had gathered that Daryl was very attached to the little girl; he had been out most the day searching for her on his own.

Beth tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans and stepped back toward him.

"Was that your little girl?"

He glared up at her, and she thought maybe she had misinterpreted that he had wanted to continue talking to her after all.

"No." He replied shortly.

Beth hesitated a little, thinking she should probably leave him be, like her daddy said to, but curiosity won over sense. "Is her mom your girlfriend?"

"Nah." Daryl gave his head a single shake and leaned back against the tree, eyeing her over as if he wasn't quite sure what she had asked. "Just hate for her to be fearin' the fate of her daughter 'sall."

Daryl examined the knife in his hand and then began scoring it against the tree root, splitting the bark fibres apart.

Beth figured that, despite his appearance, Daryl was actually a good man.

She knew her daddy would be relieved to know the people on his land were good. He had been grumbling all afternoon, about how weird Maggie had been acting after going on that run with Glenn.

"Already have to watch Jimmy, don't want to be watchin' that Asian boy too." He had groaned to her.

"What can you tell me about Glenn?" Beth asked Daryl, as she thumbed at the belt loop of her jeans.

Daryl shrugged. "He's a'right. Quick. Smart. A doer."

"No, I mean what's he_ like?"_

Daryl looked up at her, giving her the same twisted look of confusion he had given her earlier, and making her feel uncomfortable once again.

"I ain't known him that much longer 'an you. All I know for sure is, he's Korean, not Chinese."

Beth chuckled a little, but Daryl's serious expression told her he wasn't joking.

"Why you got a crush on 'im? Don't you already have a boy?"

Beth shook her head. "Not me. My sister. She's been actin all weird since she got back from that run to the store. Daddy doesn't like it, but I think it would be nice for her to have someone. I think everyone needs someone…"

Daryl scoffed. "Sorry. Can't be askin' a Dixon 'bout what makes boyfriend material."

He returned to running his whetstone over his blade, a little more aggressively now.

"A Dixon?"

"Yeah. My name. Daryl Dixon."


	4. 2-5-1

**2.5.1 The first time Beth thought she had lost Daryl**

"The kitchen is the heart of the home." That's what her momma always said. And her momma was always in the home's heart. As soon as Beth was tall enough to reach the hot-plate she would spend hours in there; learning how to knead dough, beat egg whites, and trick her daddy into believing there was more salt in the food than he was permitted.

It was a nice gesture when Carol and Lori offered to cook dinner for all of them. But Beth simply couldn't stand by and let them touch her momma's pots and pans and secret herbs, without her presence.

She was mashing the potatoes together when she heard the sound; A loud gunshot cracking through the fields outside.

The kitchen emptied, as bodies rushed through the doorway in an effort to get to the front door. Beth pushed the bowl and whisk aside, and raced after everyone, wondering if one of the sick had escaped the barn.

She could see Rick, Glenn, Shane and T-dog out in the field standing over a body lying among the grass. Quickly scanning the people around her, she noticed who was gone. The dirty, moody redneck. Daryl Dixon.

"No." She muttered under her breath, holding her hands to her lips.

Who had shot him, and why?

Rick and Shane had picked up the limp body, supporting his weight over their shoulders, and began dragging it back to the house

Beth couldn't do anything but gape at the scene before her. She didn't know Daryl very well, but losing anyone she knew crushed her heart.

Jimmy came beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Is he dead?" She murmured.

He shook his head in response. "Can't tell."

She waited in nervous anticipation as the three men approached.

Glenn caught her distraught expression as he strolled passed her.

"Just a graze." He informed her.

Beth sighed in relief, and a smile tugged at her lips. She couldn't handle another death so soon after Otis.

Her father began fussing over Daryl's limp body examining the many cuts and bruises that covered his bare skin.

"Most of this blood isn't his." He commented as the men dragged him up the steps and on to the porch. "Get him into the downstairs guest room, let me examine the damage."

Maggie led the way through the house, while her daddy grabbed his standing wash basin, and carried it to the guest room.

Beth left the huddle of worried people in the entry foyer and followed her daddy, hoping to lend some assistance if he needed any.

She poked her head into the room to see that Daryl was now awake and groaning while holding his side. She had noted the mud and blood smeared over the sheets in patterns of brown and red. What would her momma say?

Her daddy tugged Daryl's filthy blood stained shirt over his side, and then glanced at her over his shoulder. "Grab some more towels, and my suture kit, Beth."

Beth dashed to the hallway cabinet, retrieved her daddy's medical bag, and brought it back to the room. She handed it to her father and then hovered in the doorway.

Daryl groaned as he sat up, reached his hands behind his head and began tugging at the collar of his shirt. He stopped suddenly when he noticed Beth watching, his dark and puffed eyes watching her cautiously.

"You go finish with dinner, Beth. Give the man some privacy." Her daddy shoed her away with a flick of his wrist

"Okay daddy." Beth dutifully obliged.


	5. 2-5-2

**2.5.2 The first time Beth took the blame**

Lori and Carol had offered to make them dinner, yet she had helped them, but now it was her and Maggie left to do the washing up. Beth pouted sullenly at the campsite under the trees at the far edge of the farmhouse grounds. She guessed they were still guests, so she did have to be hospitable.

"There's a dish missin'." Her sister commented as she ran her finger over the edge of the dirty plates. "Think Carol took one to Daryl, you wanna go grab it?"

Beth dried her wet hands with the towel, and tossed it on to the bench before making her way through the halls to the guest room.

She stopped by the painted wooden door, a dim light glowing from underneath it, and knocked gently.

"Who is it?" Came a gruff voice from inside.

"Beth."

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Your house."

Beth slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. The plate was on the night stand, looking as though it had been licked clean, and Daryl was lying back flat against the now clean sheets, with the covers tucked under his armpits.

She couldn't help but notice the long scar across his chest. That wasn't from today. It looked like a knife slash wound. Probably from a bar fight or some other nonsense rednecks got up to before the turn.

She shook her head to shift her nasty thoughts and looked to the plate. "I'm just doin' the washin' up, you done with your plate?"

Daryl squinted an eye and nodded toward the empty plate. "Yeah." _Isn't it obvious_, written in his expression.

Beth gathered up the plate and cutlery. "I made the taters you like em?"

He shrugged his shoulders against the sheets. "They were a'right."

"I added horseradish. Havin' the same potatoes every day can get kinda borin'."

"It was different. It was nice." It almost looked like he was smiling.

Beth eyed over the form of Daryl's long lean body under sheets. Slightly amused at how the tough guy had been taken down by an amateur female shooter and a horse. "She was mine."

"Who?"

"Nelly. Daddy got her for me from auction last year. She threw me first time I rode her, broke my wrist." Beth flicked her hand around, remembering the pain. "I was too scared to get back on her after that. Daddy had to use her as a workhorse. She weren't trained to ride, that's why she's so skittish…kinda my fault that it happened."

"Pfft. Weren't even remotely your fault."

Beth smiled and gave her shoulders a gentle toss. "Guess I'm just tryin' to take some of the blame, make you feel better."

Daryl looked positively baffled. "Why?"

"It's what people do…you know?"

Daryl shook his head gently. "Nah. I don't."


	6. 2-9-1

**A/N: This is set between 'Triggerfinger' (episode 9) and '18 Miles out' (episode 10). There is a jump of a few episodes as I'm not going to write every time they said hello or looked at each other, and Daryl was away from the group at this time up in his little camp. If you think there is a possible scene I've missed let me know and I'll see if it fits :)**

* * *

**2.9.1 The first time Daryl held Beth's hand**

He didn't want to talk to anyone, or see anyone, or be asked to go on any dumb trips to look for dumb people who couldn't make their way back on their own. He was done looking for people, and he wanted to be alone.

He had been out looking for Sophia every single day. When everyone wanted to give up and throw in the search, even her own mother, he was the only one who held on to hope that she was still alive. For everyone else Sophia died a long time ago, but for him she had died right there in front of his eyes. The pain was still raw, and he didn't want anyone to see him in pain. Pain was weak, and weak wasn't Dixon.

From his camp up on the hill among the century old ruins of a stone house, he could just make out figures moving around the Greene home. He couldn't make out faces, but he had taken note of all their gaits, something he had picked up from tracking, and he could make an educated guess at who was who. Two of them had taken the suburban, he figured they were going on a run. Two of them were moving through the cow paddock, he was confident one was Hershel and the other probably Rick. A whole bunch of people were moving around the barn, he figured cleaning it out so they could spend the winter in there, like a herd of cattle. He was no cow, and he was quite happy to brave the winter months in his canvas tent. He had done it before plenty of times.

The camp under the trees looked abandoned and he figured with everyone preoccupied, now would be his chance to approach the farm house. He needed to draw water from the well, the only one he knew wasn't contaminated was by the house, otherwise he never would have gone anywhere near there.

…

Chewing on his substitute cigarette, a stick of dry grass, he filled the canteens up, holding each one under the faucet while he pumped away. The crisp clean water splashed from the faucet dousing his greasy hands as he filled them, and he secretly wished for a shower. He didn't really like being this dirty, but it kept people away, and that _was_ what he liked.

When the canteens were full, he screwed the lids back on tight, and went to step away, lifting from his crouched position and smacking straight into Maggie Greene; the force almost causing him to swallow his grass.

"Where is everyone?" Maggie asked as she steadied him and then gently pushed him away.

He almost spat his grass out in frustration. "Why do I gotta be the one who knows where everyone is all the time?"

"You _are_ the tracker." A hint of teasing was in her voice, but Daryl was in no mood for teasing, so his lips curled in an almost snarl.

Maggie scoffed and turned her eyes up to the sky at his expression, "Do you know or not?"

Daryl shrugged a shoulder. "Think Shane and Andrea went on a run, Carol, Lori and Carl are in the barn, your dad and Rick are out in the field somewhere." Daryl flicked the finger of his free hand toward the field he had last seen them.

"And Glenn"

"I dunno, he's your boyfriend."

"Darn. I need to find him." Her green eyes, suddenly intense, looked over him as if she were assessing a heifer at the market. With a voice full of demand she asked. "Can you watch Beth?"

Daryl knew that the farmer's youngest daughter, Beth, had been in some kind of catatonic state of shock since the day Sophia died. Her mom, who was being held in the barn with Sophia, hadn't been quite dead and when Beth had gone to grieve over her, she had grabbed hold of her and near tore Beth to shreds. Daryl knew it was enough to shake a full grown toughened man, but Beth was so soft and gentle, you could blow her over with a butterfly's wing-beat. Nevertheless he couldn't see how someone who couldn't move or talk needed a guardian.

"What she need watchin' for?"

Maggie huffed impatiently as if the answer should be obvious. "In-case she wakes up…or comes out of it…or whatever'."

"Ain't Patricia her nurse?"

"She was up all night with her; I don't wanna bother her."

Daryl shook his head and stepped past her. "Nah, I'm right, why don't you ask Jimmy or somethin'?"

Maggie jogged along beside him. "I can't find him… Look it won't be hard, all you gotta do is sit by her bed. You can even keep chewin' your grass."

Daryl flicked the stalk of the grass with his tongue until it was on his lips and then spat it away.

Maggie grasped her hands together in front of her chest. "Please."

Daryl rolled his eyes, he just wanted to get his water and go, but he was ever so slightly curious about the welfare of the youngest Greene.

"A'right, but I ain't holdin' her hand or talkin' to her or nothin' dumb like that."

"I'm not askin' you to." Maggie flashed him a tooth filled grin, slapped him on the shoulder and started backing towards the barn. "Just go on in. You know which room is hers?"

He looked up to the top floor window, the one that had the pictures of suns and stars glued to the glass. He had seen her sitting by that window at night time, and thought he had heard her singing once or twice in the early days he spent at the camp with the others.

He pointed up to the second floor. "That one there right?"

"You got it." Maggie called, waving him off.

…

Daryl didn't need to knock on the door, it was already open, but he felt awkward about coming into a girl's room uninvited so he stuck his head through the doorway to check things out first.

Beth was lying back on the bed, the sheets made up around her and tucked under her arms. An IV drip was attacked to her out-turned arm. She was staring up at the ceiling, looking like she wouldn't even know if he was there.

He placed his canteens carefully onto the timber floorboards, and stepped forward to examine her face; pale like the rest of her. Her blonde hair was matted to her already sweating skin, the air quite muggy for some early in the morning. Her big blue eyes were wide open and empty. He waved a hand in front of them to see if there was any reaction.

Confident she wasn't aware of his presence, he poked around on her nightstand and dresser for a magazine or something to read. He couldn't find anything that didn't have boys in cowboys hats on the cover, and he wasn't about to go searching through her drawers for anything, women's secrets scared him more than walkers.

He sat himself down on the padded mahogany chair, fighting the urge to kick his dirty boots up on the bed, and began chewing on the side of his finger nail. He wished he had kept the stalk of grass to keep himself busy, or better still, that he had a cigarette.

There was little else to do but watch Beth, so he let his eyes rest on the beaded bracelets that wound around her skinny wrist. Thinking about how odd the girl was with her godly clean skin, white clothing and pretty jewellery in the middle of the falling to hell world.

After a moment of staring he noticed her fingers twitch slightly.

"Beth?" He called softly, looking back to her face. There was no response.

He dragged his chair a little closer. "Anyone home?"

He shook her gently on her arm and waited for a reaction. Still nothing.

"You can't hear a word I'm sayin' can you?" He said to the empty room.

He decided to do something stupid, that he told Maggie he wouldn't do; hold her hand.

He slipped his rough and dirty fingers into her dainty hand. She felt so fragile and helpless; If Rick was wrong, and Randall's people came looking for him, he didn't want to think what they would do to a pretty little thing like her. She would be another girl he would have to protect, and hopefully better than the last one.

He gave her hand a gently shake. "You gon' move again, girl?"

No reaction.

"Your family's real worried 'bout you."

He felt so stupid talking to her. He may as well be talking to a walker in her current state, but he figured it could do no harm.

"My momma died, when I was a kid younger 'an you. I guess I kinda know what you're feelin'…I never got to see her like you did. It never even felt real, 'cause she was just there one moment and gone the next."

He drew tiny circles across the skin between her thumb and forefinger, as he thought about his long gone momma.

"She was kinda rough. She drank a heap, smoked more than I ever could, and swore more than Merle ever could, but I still missed her…I think for all her faults, she was prob'ly the only person who ever loved me. And prob'ly the only person who ever will."

Beth's fingers suddenly clenched firmly against the back of his hand, making him jump and quickly retract it, leaving Beth's arm stretched to the side, hand open to the ceiling.

He almost felt as if he had been touched by a ghost, his hand still felt cold where she had pressed it.

Edging closer to her, keeping his eyes on her still blank face, he gingerly reached out his hand to hers again, his fingers barely brushing against her open palm.

"Thought you weren't gonna hold her hand." Maggie called playfully from the doorway.

Daryl jumped up from his seat, as if he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I weren't, thought it moved."

He shouldered the grinning Maggie out of the way and collected his canteens from the floor, then stomped down the hallway.

"Thank you." Maggie called after him.

"Mmm." He grunted in response.

* * *

**A/N: Forgot to mention, if you read something that doesn't fit with the canon, like it was impossible for Beth or Daryl to be present at that moment, or anything else, let me know and I'll try to fix it.**


	7. 2-11-1

**A/N: Set sometime after Daryl beats on Randall. Maybe before Dale comes to see him, maybe after. I'm not sure where it would fit better.**

**2.11.1 The first time Daryl blew up at Beth**

Lori had suggested she take a walk before she had hurt herself. She wished she had have listened; gone with her and cleared her head, and maybe re-thought her intentions. But she had let grief take over her, and now she was stuck in bed with everyone taking shifts to sit by her and talk to her and make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

When Maggie left her, telling her to get some rest, Beth knew it was her opportunity to get away from everyone's sideways stares, under-breath mutters, and condescending pats on the head. If only for a moment.

She tossed back the bed covers and padded across the floor to her boots, balancing herself on the dresser as her legs wobbled beneath her. She had barely used them in the past few days.

She popped her head out of her door to check if anyone was left guarding her, and satisfied the path was clear, she made her way downstairs and out the back door.

She knew if anyone checked on her and saw her gone they would worry, but she couldn't lie in that bed anymore. Every time she looked at the bathroom door, she saw the glass shattering, and the smell of her own blood, collecting in her dressing, was a constant reminder of what she had done.

She would take that walk Lori had suggested. Take a few minutes to clear her head, remind herself of what living was like, and then she would be ready to go back and face everyone again.

She crossed the house grounds hastily, ducked under the fence to the paddock and marched up the hill.

At night, when she was stuck in her room with either her dad or Jimmy or Maggie jabbering on to her about the goings on in the farm, she had stared out at the single orange light that flicked and pulsed against the darkness. She knew he was there, but her reason for heading in that direction had nothing to do with him. She had simply caught sight of the ruins of the first Greene family home, built on the land 160 years ago, and felt drawn in that direction, regardless of whether Daryl was there or not.

Daryl was circling his tent, tugging on the support ropes inspecting them as if to make sure they were tight and secure, his arms were exposed by his torn and ragged sleeveless button up, biceps flexing as worked.

He glanced up at her as she approached. "What the hell're you doin' out 'ere?" He asked in an incredulous tone, a sneer pulling up the side of his lip.

He stepped towards her, she felt his motion was intended to be intimidating, but Beth had become used to his false bravado, she barely even noticed it.

"I had to get away from everyone. Treatin' me like a psych ward patient." She hesitantly glanced back towards the house, she thought she had spotted Maggie climbing over one of the paddock fences and heading in her direction.

Daryl ran his eyes over her from head to toe, taking in her run down and awkward appearance. Beth knew that her hair was all bunched to the side and matted together, her eyes were surrounded by dark rings, and her usually glowing skin was dull and pallid. Her boots didn't suit her sagging pants, and she was still wearing pyjamas.

"You still look like crap, should you even be walkin' 'round?"

She had been lying in bed for days now, had hardly been eating, and even though she hadn't lost much blood, she did feel a little weak. She had enjoyed getting out of the house, but the exertion of the walk had taken it out of her.

Beth shrugged her shoulders, and tried to shift the focus off herself. "Well, why're you all the way out here?"

"Tryin' to get away from everyone." Daryl turned his attentions back to his tent, pulling at the canvas to get it into place.

"Beth!" A far off voice cried from down the hill that Beth recognised as her sister's.

Daryl's eyes looked into the distance behind her. "You're bein' called."

She knew her sister wanted to drag her back to her room, so she could be watched and treated like a baby. Her walk through the fields had only bought her a few minutes of freedom.

"I don't want to go back there." She said sullenly. "What about you? Shouldn't you get back to Carol? She needs you now that…"

Daryl dropped the canvas and swung around to face her.

"Screw Carol!"

Beth's eyes widened, and she felt her knees tremble a little at the shock of his sudden outburst.

Daryl began treading his boots back and forth over the already trampled grass surrounding his tent. "What I did, I did for the group. Now she makes out like I'm some thug who beats up on people for fun."

Daryl stopped pacing, raised his fists and started flexing his fingers.

"Dumb bitch actually thought I'd put my hands on 'er. After all the shit I done to prove otherwise, she still paints me with the same brush as her no good, dead husband… I may've done some dumb shit in my life, but I'd _never_ lay my hands on a woman." He spoke with such conviction, Beth felt that it was an issue he had felt passionate about for quite some time. Long before he met Carol.

Beth glanced at the blood covering his knuckles.

"You hit someone…it was Randall, wasn't it?" Jimmy had told her that the boy Rick and Glen had taken, when they had gone to collect her father from town, had admitted to knowing Maggie from school. The group had decided to keep him in the shed until they knew what to do with him. Beth figured Daryl had already decided for them.

Daryl kept his cold blue eyes on her. "What? You gon' give me a hard time now too?"

Beth shook her head and tried at a soothing tone, picking up that he was bothered, by Carol or by Randall or both, she couldn't be sure.. "I didn't say anythin' Daryl, I know you'll do what you have to…"

"You know what his people did?" Daryl interrupted, speaking to her in his aggressive tone, her efforts to calm him hadn't worked. She figured he felt he needed to get something off his chest, so she stood her ground, patiently listening to him justify his actions.

"They raped two cute lil' teenagers, just like you, right in front of their dad. What d' y' think that'd do to your daddy, huh?"

Beth dropped her eyes to the top button of his filthy, sleeveless shirt and let his words sink in. What he had said scared her, but she didn't want to show it. She swallowed gently to shift her discomfort and lifted her eyes back to his face.

"Oh, that's right, you don't care what you do to your daddy."

He flicked a finger towards the bandage on her wrist, spotted lightly with blood that had seeped through the stitches.

"You don't get it." Beth covered the bandage with her hand. "I thought it might be better. The way my mom was…" Beth shook the image of her mother's decaying face from her mind.

"Nah, your right I don't get it. _My_ mom burnt to a crisp when I was still in grade school. There was nothin left of 'er but bad memories and ash. I was left with an asshole brother who spent more time in juvie than at home and a dumbass dad who…"

Daryl trailed off, his blue eyes widening. He took his thumb to his chin and rubbed across the whiskers that grew there as he eyed over Beth.

"You're lucky you got a sister and daddy who give a damn 'bout you….and a boyfriend. Did you stop and think of what it might do to 'em?"

She had heard it all before, from just about everyone she cared about, but she didn't think she would hear it from him. She dropped her eyes, feeling like a scolded puppy, and noticed the ground swaying under her feet. She had been standing too long.

"It was stupid. End of." Daryl turned and stomped off towards his tent.

"Beth." Maggie called from behind her, making Beth jump and then stumbled backwards into her sister's arms.

"What're you doin' out here?" Her sister steadied her by holding her shoulders.

"She was just leavin'." Daryl grunted over his shoulder, before ducking and disappearing inside his tent."

* * *

**A/N: He will apologise ;)**


	8. 2-12-1

**A/N: Set when Rick is talking to Hershel and Andrea about Shane. (There were two young looking female walkers in that group that were killed by Shane, Andrea, T-dog and Daryl.)**

**2.12.1 The first time Daryl gave Beth a gift**

Beth gripped onto the cuff of her denim jacket with her middle and index finger, dragging it down over the tell-tale sign of her moment of weakness.

Everyone had stopped giving her a hard time about it now; it was hard to think about her mistakes when they had just lost another person. Dale had been a kind and reasonable man, and he would have died an unjust long and painful death if Daryl hadn't have put him out of his misery.

It had been a terrible thing to happen, but something good had come from it. Beth's dad had finally agreed to let Rick and his group stay in the house. It was for the best as winter approached and the days started getting shorter and colder, and they couldn't risk them being out in the open anyway, not after what had happened to Dale.

Beth opened her arms and allowed Maggie to load her up with gear to take back to the house from Rick's camp, trying not to wince when the canvas strap rubbed against the tender skin of her wrist. She hefted the bag up on to her shoulder, balanced the deck chair under her free arm, and then trudged back towards her soon to be full family home.

She heard the rumble of Daryl's bike start up behind her, and then the sound echo against the timber boards of the home as the bike drew closer. It made her squirm a little with discomfort. Daryl had been so nasty to her the day before. Nasty and honest. She had been able to avoid him ever since, but now they were all going to be living so close, she knew they would be crossing paths more often.

She dropped the chair and bag on to the porch, handing over to Jimmy who was moving everything into the house as it was delivered.

The unexpected tap on her elbow made her startle, and she swung around to see Daryl's stern face looking down on her.

"Can I talk to you?" He grunted, his lips barely moving, and then took a step back urging her to follow.

Beth's eyes shifted back to Jimmy, who was eyeing Daryl cautiously. She had told him what he had said to her, and Jimmy hadn't been impressed. He said it wasn't his place to say anything to her. He wasn't her daddy, he wasn't her brother and he certainly wasn't her _boyfriend._

Daryl's eyes shifted from her face to Jimmy's, "'s'okay Romeo, Just talkin'."

"Okay." Beth said cautiously, she turned to follow, but Jimmy gripped her tender wrist, causing her to jerk back. He drew her into him, bending and crooking his neck so he could reach her mouth from where he was standing on the porch.

His lips met hers and he gave her a rough, wet and awkward kiss. Beth swivelled away from him, uncomfortable and not sure why he was suddenly displaying affection so openly. He had never kissed her like that before. At least not where her dad and sister could see them.

She turned back to Daryl who was watching them, his face screwed up in disgust. Daryl nodded his head backward and Beth followed him around the side of the house, keeping her eyes to the dirt to avoid Jimmy's uncertain glare.

Once out of ear shot of the others, Daryl stopped suddenly causing Beth to walk straight into his back.

He jumped backwards, holding a hand out as of to catch her if she wold fall, or as if to keep her away from him, Beth wasn't sure.

He dug a hand into his pocket and then pulled out a clenched fist, and shoved it towards her. "Here." He grunted.

Beth held out her hand and Daryl pressed in something soft and grainy, and smooth and hard all at the same time.

She kept her hand clenched around it and looked up into his lowered blue eyes.

"What's this for?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. Beth could barely make out what he was saying.

"What for?"

"For what I said to y'. Yesterday. Last thing you needed was me bein' an asshole. Guess I was kinda pissed that you would just…_leave_ like that."."

Beth lowered her eyes guiltily her sight drawn to her clenched hand. She opened her fist to see he had given her a thick leather black cuff bracelet with a chunky golden cross riveted on.

Daryl flicked a finger towards it. "You like that kinda crap right?"

She really did like it. Somehow Daryl knew exactly what her style was.

"It's beautiful where'd you get it?"

"Don't matter. Someone didn't need it no more, so it's yours now."

Beth didn't have to put too much thought in to it to figure out he had taken it from a walker. She could still smell the rot on it, but a gift was a gift, and she knew those were going to be few and far between for a long while yet, and even rarer to be received from Daryl.

She smiled up at him. "Assholes don't give gifts."

He jiggled his shoulders in a way that resembled a shrug. "I know what I am and what I ain't."

She smirked to herself as she rubbed her thumb over the smooth cold surface of the cross. "Thank you." She said gratefully.

"JC ain't on speaking terms with me, but I know he is with you. Thought it might remind y' to have faith and shit." He pointed to the swollen and puckered skin of her wrist, hidden by layers of bandage and denim. "You should wear it there. Til y' know y' don't need it no more."

Beth nodded her agreement. "Thinkin' I might give it a scrub first."

Daryl huffed with mild amusement. "Yeah, you prob'ly should."

* * *

**A/N: The bracelet appears in season 3 and in season 2 her arms are covered at this point, I'm pretty sure Beth never mentions how she got it. I don't think its too OOC for Daryl to give gifts. He gave Carol the rose, and he got the jade for the woman from Woodbury.**


	9. 2-13-1

**A/N: Set the morning after the farm attack.**

**2.13.1 The first time Daryl took the blame.**

"I thought it best if people didn't know." Rick's jaw was set firmly, his glare challenged anyone to speak out against his choice. They didn't. They watched him as he gave them all a deeply haunted look, then turned and proceeded to walk down the road, with Lori tailing behind him.

Beth's heart was pumping adrenaline furiously around her body. Her mind was still reeling from losing the farm the night before, from losing Patricia, and finding out Jimmy was dead, and being scared she might not see her sister or father again. And now to find out they were all infected.

She took two steps to the side of the barren road and looked up to the shimmering fall leaves, swaying against the dull grey sky.

_All infected._

Her breaths shuddered in her chest, her knees knocked together and she stretched her fingers down towards the roadside barrier in an effort to steady herself.

Daryl was standing to her side, hunched over his crossbow as he pulled back on the string to cock it. His eyes lifted to her, and without shifting his gaze, he slotted a bolt into place, swung the bow over his shoulder and stepped in closer to her.

"You doin' a'right?"

Beth looked up into his cool blue eyes, shadowed as if he had as little sleep as her the night before. "Yeah…I'm just…we're all infected." She sighed and looked back to the trees.

"Yeah. Kinda messed up ain't it." Daryl ran his thumb over the strap that crossed his chest, and then kicked his worn boots into the moist orange leaves that covered the road.

"I'm sorry, Beth." He muttered.

Beth glanced over her shoulder towards Daryl, his shoulders slackened and eyes to the ground. There was blood spatter on his cheeks and forehead, and fat thick droplets spotted on his neck beginning to crackle now they were dry, but Beth was certain it wasn't his.

"What for?" her voice was so quiet, she wasn't even sure if he heard it.

" 'bout Jimmy..." He sighed and turned his eyes up to the grey sky, squinting slightly.

Beth turned her eyes back to the gold and burnt orange leaves of the oaks. She was more upset about losing the farm and Patricia than losing Jimmy. They had only been together for a little over three months, and they had only stayed together as a matter of convenience. There weren't that many boys her age left at the time, and she just wanted someone to take her mind off everything that was going on. Her insides clench with discomfort as she felt guilt about not shedding as many tears for him as she probably should.

"Thanks." She muttered in reply.

"T'was my fault." Daryl shifted nervously on his feet, "Him dyin'. I sent him to take the RV over to the barn, to get Carl and Rick."

Beth smirked to herself, "are you doin' that thing I taught you?"

Daryl looked up at her, eyes still squinting, but now as if in confusion, "What thing?"

"Takin' some of the load. Tryin' to make me feel better."

Daryl turned his eyes away from her, looking up the embankment towards the woods, and gave his shoulders a firm shrug.

"You're right." Beth said taking a step toward him, wrapping her arms around her shoulders to ward off the cold shiver that was running through her. "It was your fault. Your fault that Carl and Rick lived. And Jimmy's fault too." She frowned to herself. "He didn't die for nothin'."

"Yeah." Daryl muttered, his eyes still glued to the woods, as if to avoid her gaze.

"I think Jimmy would be happy knowin' I've still got someone here to take care of me, right?" She reached out to touch his hand that was gripped onto the strap of his crossbow, but before she had got within an inch, he flinched away and took a step back.

His eyes looked cold and wary at first, but seemed to soften the longer he held her gaze.

Daryl nodded his agreement, and then backed away from her, "I'm gonna hunt us some dinner." He tossed his head towards the woods, "Sure you're okay? 'bout everythin' else. You ain't gonna do nothin' stupid are you?"

Beth knew he was referring to her suicide attempt.

She tucked her hand into the pocket of her denim jacket and produced the leather cuff bracelet he had given her the morning before.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Everythin' will be okay. I have faith."

**A/N: Not sure if I'll do another one for this episode or not, just yet. The next several chapters I'm going to be getting more creative. I've got 7 months of time to fill between season 2 and 3!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. I welcome suggestions. Especially to fill that 7 months.**


End file.
